#rip sam who had to watch this extravagant dance

[t00muchheart]

Something about the fact that both Dean and Cas think they’ve fucked up too many times to be redeemed, that they aren’t worth saving, and yet they forgive each other.

Something about the fact that both of them, faced with an outside force compelling them to kill the other, pushed past that to save each other’s lives.

Something about Cas dying to save Dean time after time because he can’t stand the thought of seeing Dean dead, not knowing what it does to Dean to see Cas dead, and to feel like the blood is on his hands; about Cas trying to restructure the universe for Dean and Dean just wanting him to stay.

Something about Dean teaching Cas to be more human and then, when he is human, failing to help him and having to live with the regret of that.

Just…something about Cas and Dean and the way that they’re simultaneously doomed and inevitable, always circling around something but never able to land

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet Masterlist

18+ Panty Dropping

Stark parties were always extravagant affairs. Black ties and cocktail dresses. Everyone was decked out to the nines. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off your sultry dress. The way it clung to your curves, accentuating every dip and swell. The shiny red material sparkled as you moved, swinging your hips to the beat of the tune that was playing. You had begged him to join you, fingers hooked into his belt loops as you urged him forwards. But Bucky was a soldier, trained to resist temptation. So, with determination, you stepped onto the dance floor, a solitary figure bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights.

“You go ahead, I'll watch.”

Bucky’s gaze traced the delicate line of your collarbones, the gentle curve of your waist. The crimson hue of the dress set his loins on fire, igniting a longing he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just the color, it was the way it whispered secrets against your skin. You were a vision. And oh, how you moved. Fluid, like water coursing through a hidden stream. As the music swirled around you, you moved with grace, lost in the rhythm. The halter neck of the dress revealed just enough - the elegant slope of your shoulders, the arch of your back, the skin of your thighs.

Bucky clenched his fists, torn between the desire to join you versus the desire to carry you out of the building over his shoulder. He shoved his hands in his pockets, to hide his agitation. The last thing he needed was for Steve or Sam to come over and fuss over him. But the action didn’t bring about the result he expected. There was something unexpected as he slipped his hand into the concealed compartment of his pants. Bucky’s fingers closed around the silky material and he pulled out a lacy black thong. 

He stroked his thumb over the skimpy piece of lingerie, noting that it felt slightly damp. In a swift movement, he closed the item into his fist and brought it up to his nose, taking a whiff of your unique scent. Bucky felt a heat rise inside him and he felt his cock twitch dangerously. How dare you tease him?

You could feel his eyes on you. Almost like a sixth sense. You knew he had discovered the little gift you had left him. He beckoned you with the smallest gesture. You smiled, sauntering over.

“What do you think you're doing? Anyone could have seen this! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Bucky hissed in your ear, your underwear now in his metal fist. Never had he met another person who knew how to push his buttons. Your pokes and prods were so aptly timed and precisely calculated. When he was feeling sad, mad, excited or turned on. It was you - you held all the answers he had been seeking. The warmth of companionship, the thrill of surrender to his carnal urges. Wherever you led, he would follow.

“Where you going, Doll? Do you have any idea what you do to me? Dressed in this scrap of a dress? Is this turning you on? Teasing me with this? Getting me hard? Denying me the pleasure of ripping these off your pretty little pussy?”

A plant. Multiple large pots filled with bamboo shoots. Dense enough to hide two people. That is where he found himself. His hands all over you, on your waist, behind your neck, under the hem of your short skirt, between your soaked and uncovered folds. The candles that adorned the walls flickered and threatened to reveal your hideaway.

“Your cunt feels so good. Dripping for me already, Doll? And I haven't even let you get a taste of my cock yet. Want me to rub your clit, darling?”

Your whines were getting louder and louder. They had the potential to attract attention, despite the thumping music. Bucky spun you around, clamping a vibranium hand over your sinful mouth, keeping his flesh one nestled comfortably over your sensitive nub.

“My my, such a needy little thing, aren't we? Trying to get me all worked up by leaving your panties in my pocket? Well, darling, it worked. I'm going to fuck you right here, behind this plant. And unless you want to get caught, you're going to take it without making a sound. Got that, Doll?”

Bucky unzipped his pants. The fear of being seen suppressed by the flame of desire that engulfed him. He didn't hesitate in thrusting into you, reveling in the way your walls hugged him in the perfect way. He could hear his name tumbling from your lips, the sound vibrating through the metal. It didn't take long for him to spill his hot seed into your clenching cunt, as it begged for its own release. Bucky pulled out his cock as soon as he was done, pressing your thighs together as you moaned with frustration at being denied your climax.

“Now, now, darling. What did I say about making noise, huh? You don't get to cum until I say you do. Getting me all good and riled up at this stupid party. You'll have to suffer the consequences.”

You held out your hand for him to return your panties. But instead you were met with a devilish grin as Bucky stuffed them back into his pocket.

“No, Doll. These are mine. You’re coming home with me and I had better not see any mess spilling down your legs, or you'll be sorry you ever gave me these.”

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Mistletoe

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter put off introducing you to the team for a long time, but Tony insists the holiday party at the compound is the perfect way for the team to meet the only best friend they haven’t yet.

Word Count: 2385

Warnings: Christmas themed, more fluff

Tags: @lokilvrr

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my fics anywhere without my written permission.

"If you ask me one more time if I'm sure I want to go, I promise I will rip my hair out and you'll have to deal with looking at me bald every day," you huffed out a laugh with only a slight playful annoyance tinging the words as you spoke. Delicate application of mascara, mouth parted ever so slightly to give the steady hand needed to not mess up the extravagant glittery eyeshadow that you'd never admit took three tutorials, four tries, and over an hour to do properly.

"O-okay," Peter's anxious voice flowed through your phone perched on the edge of your vanity. "I'll be there in 15, Mr.Stark had Happy pick me up. Bye, (Y/N/N)."

One final layer of ruby red lipstick to compliment the dress that MJ had helped you select; a beautiful a-line knee length dress, intricate lace dancing across the chest and flowing down each arm, stopping just before your wrists, all in a rich christmasy red. Fixing a small golden necklace around your neck to match the gold of the friendship bracelet Peter had given you, MJ and Ned before everyone went off to college, you slipped on a pair of gold glittery flats to complete the look.

As if on queue there was a small series of knocks against your bedroom door. Grabbing the small black clutch you'd thrown a few things in, you opened the door, smiling at Peter before taking in his appearance.

Being an Avenger had done him well, a new sense of maturity vibrating in his aura. His loose curls had been groomed and shaped up, no doubt a request from Tony for this party. His shoulders more broad, a hint of stubble prickling his chin and jaw, all complemented by the sleek black tux, with a bright red tie that just happened to match your dress perfectly. Michelle's doing no doubt.

"O- uh - you look- you look beautiful," Peter stumbled over the words as he tried his damndest to not stare at any one part too long. There was a faint blush on his pale skin. "Are you ready?" He asked, "Mr.Stark isn't happy that you're my only friend he hasn't met."

A soft giggle played at your lips as you turned your lights off and shit your door, "Sure am, Parker."

*

"Holy shit, there's even little sodas in here - PETER YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THEY'RE TINY," a small squeal left your lips as you pulled out one of the tiny cans from the cooler in the limo, Happy sending Peter and amused look through the rear view mirror.

Peter chuckled softly, "I tried telling Mr.Stark we didn't need the limo but he insisted."

"Okay, but seriously, if Tony wasn't already married I'd be chasing after that if it meant I got things like this every day," there was an obvious joking tone to your words but it still stung Peter deep in the gut. Happy sent Peter another look when he caught that hurt puppy look on Peter's face, which he responded with by closing the partition.

You pouted at Peter, "Hey, that was mean," you scolded softly.

"He kept wiggling his eyebrows at me it was weird," Peter whined in defense, causing a string of laughter to fall from you.

"Where's the party at?" You asked, settling back into the seat next to Peter, pressing the small can of soda to your lips, the warm, dim light casting a fairytale like glow over you and Peter was damn sure Tony had changed the lights.

"It's at the compound," Peter answered, pulling his phone out to check the time, anything to keep from looking at you too long. "Mr.Stark said he wanted something more intimate this year. It's a few of his friends, everyone had a plus one, I originally wasn't going to go but he wanted to meet you and thought this would be a good time to do so."

"Ooh wait, so I also get to meet the team?" You asked, feeling the car pull into what you could only assume was the compound.

Peter nodded as Happy opened the door and Peter grabbed your clutch before getting out, holding his hand out to help you. A chorus of thank you's and nice to meet you's flowed between the group before Peter steered your attention to the pristinely white building that was brightly lit. Hundreds of thousands of little crystal lights strung on every ledge, every tree, every bush and branch available. Little white deer silhouettes lined the walkway and it truly looked like a winter wonderland thanks to the dusting of snow still stuck from that morning.

The bustling party could be heard even outside, laughter, chatter, and music vibrating the architecture. Peter opened the door for you, the sounds doubling in volume as you stepped into what felt like a scene out of a Hallmark movie. Intricate decorations and lace, ribbon, and likes strewn across the ceilings, railing and archways. A pop-up bar and serving table off to the side, the home to extravagant drinks and foods you had only ever dreamed of getting the chance to taste. The intimate lighting doubled with the warmth that the endless Christmas music sent through you made your heartbeat a little faster when you remember who you came here with.

Peter's arm wrapped around your waist, leading you towards the back of the room that sat huge round tables. At the center table sat a few of the team members; Natasha with her feet propped up on Sam's lap, Sam who was bickering with Bucky over what sounded like an argument over the best something and poor Steve stuck in the middle of his two friends squabbling.

Peter cleared his throat to get their attention, all eyes turning to him and then immediately falling in you. An anxious, almost embarrassed kind of warmth spread through you as they all analyzed you, Bucky breaking into a huge grin. "Hey Peter, is this the dame you haven't shut up about?"

Sam sighed exasperatedly, "Barnes, for the last time, we don't call girls dames anymore."

"I think it's rather endearing," Nat added, eyes never leaving you, watching as you looked up at Peter with a small look of shock on your face, lips slightly parted. Bucky had undoubtedly caught you off guard with the confession, and Peter was blushing even darker than earlier.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," you said, voice in a heightened, almost comical tone of disbelief, "Are you talking about me again? Do I need to bring out the pictures from summer camp?"

His eyes went as big as saucers, "No no no no, they asked about my friends and I told then about you that's all," his words were rushed, quick to speak in hopes of deterring your threat.

"Sure, if you call gu- ouch, why'd you hit me," Bucky grumbled towards Steve who was sending him a warning look and suddenly everyone at the table caught on. You knew nothing.

Peter watched as your mouth opened to speak but quickly cut you off when he heard Tony talking from the upstairs balcony. His gaze moved upwards, seeing a much less crowded, but still just as decorated area and he grabbed your hand, leading you to the steps. "C'mon. Let's go see Mr.Stark."

Tony was talking to a business friend, a young girl who you could only assume was his daughter hugging tightly to his leg with one arm and a feeding herself a cookie with another. Her eyes moved from the man in front of her to Peter and you and she gasped, dropping the cookie and running over to Peter, who knelt down in preparation to hug her.

She flung her small body into Peter's chest who hugged her and stood, moving to hold her on his hip. "Peter!!!!!! Why'd did you leave? Daddy's being boring. I wanna play with the bobots- Peter who's this she's pretty - and OUR DRESSES MATCH!"

She squealed, causing Peter to laugh softly.

You looked down at yourself and then over at her, taking in the details of her dress and realizing she was wearing a smaller version of your dress. You giggled softly, watching as Peter sat her down so she could twirl to show it off. You knelt down to be eye level with her, "Well, that just means we both have good tastes because we both look very pretty, don't we?" You asked her.

She nodded her head furiously. "Yes! Daddy wanted me to wear gold but I liked this one better. I'm Morgan."

"Hi, Morgan. My name is (Y/N), I'm Peter's friend. We've been friends since we you as little as you."

She gasped softly, "Does that mean you know how to prank him? He never falls for my pranks," she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted some, only causing you to laugh more.

"Of course I know how to prank him," you looked up at Peter to realize that both Tony and him were watching the two of you, the other man from earlier gone. After giving Morgan a small smile you stood, reaching out to shake Tony's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Stark." You beamed a bright smile at him, causing Tony to smirk softly and send Peter a look of approval.

"The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart. And please, call me Tony. I'm surprised you haven't freaked out yet, Peter's mentioned a few times that you're a big fan of - well everyone." He said, hand motioning to wave in the direction of where the team was.

You nodded, feeling Peter move back to your side and seeing Morgan find her place at Tony's leg again. "I'm a huge fan, and it is taking everything not to freak. But what kind of first impression would that be," you joked softly.

Tony chuckled, picking Morgan up. "Very true. I'll leave you two to enjoy to party. I think I need to get this stinker another cookie before mommy comes and yells at me." Morgan cheered as Tony moved to take her back downstairs, leaving Peter and you alone.

Leaning over the balcony you used the height to your advantage, observing the party and every one of its inhabitants. Watched people dance, drink too much champagne, kiss and coo at one another. It was almost surreal, the wealth, the confidence, the comfort of the bubbling atmosphere. The feeling of someone watching you pulled you from your thoughts, turning to look at Peter who was watching you intently.

"What is it?" You asked, almost amused, "something wrong with my makeup?"

Peter shook his head, hands fidgeting with the end of his jacket, eyes darting around anxiously before looking back at you. "N-no, actually. The complete opposite. I can't get over how beautiful you look tonight." He bit his lip, and when your eyebrow crooked upwards and a small smirk toyed at your lips he got worried, more anxious than before, "Not that you don't always look beautiful but you just look especially beautiful tonight."

The smile and light laugh that left your tempting lips made him feel he was baptized in cold water, drowning him and filling him with life all at once. "You overthink everything, Peter," intertwining your fingers with his, you pulled him towards the steps. "I want a drink and I want you to show me around."

A glass of champagne and too many horderves later, you found yourselves in the compounds kitchen searching for refuge from the stimulation of the party. The two of you sat on the kitchen island, reminiscing and laughing, catching up for the first time in what felt like an eternity since the start of the semester.

"So, this is pretty much where you live now? No more loud Queens streets to lull you to sleep at night?"

Peter shrugged, pulling off his suit jacket and moving to roll the cuffs of his button down shirt up. "Well, I kinda bounce between here and Aunt May's. Mr. Stark has me taking classes online so I can still work with him and not over do myse-"

A loud gasp pulled your attention to the doorway, Morgan was standing there, holding Tony's hand and pointing at the two of you. "Daddy! Look! They're under the mistletoe!"

Tony chuckled softly, "They sure are kiddo, and what does that mean?"

"They have to kiss!" She exclaimed.

Looking up you saw the bundle of green and read tied around the light fixture and couldn't help but shake your head and laugh in disbelief. "If I didn't know any better I'd believe everyone was in on something," you said and watch as Tony held his hands up in defense and backed out of the kitchen with Morgan in tow.

"Y-yeah," Peter swallowed loudly, causing you to look over at him. "We- we don't actually have to kiss if you don't want to." His voice was soft and nothing more than a mumble and he fiddled with the rolled up sleeves.

"What makes you think I don't want to kiss you, Pete?" You asked, smiling softly, a sudden wave of anxiety wiping over you. "Do you think I'd try this hard for anyone else?" You motioned to yourself.

"You could have come in sweatpants and a tank top and I still would've thought you looked amazing." Warmth spread across you, slightly embarrassed and unsure of what to say, "...Can I kiss you?" He asked.

A timid nod was enough of an answer as he moved to cup you cheeks with his hands, thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks as he took a moment to admire every detail of your face. "I've loved you since we were kids," he admitted before pressing his lips to yours, slow and almost unsure.

The moment he felt your hands on his chest, tugging at his shirt to pull him closer, his actions had more confidence, lips soft and speaking a language you didn't know you knew, filling a void you didn't know you had. You pulled back a little, both of you smiling big and giddy.

"Merry Christmas to me," he mumbled.

"Merry Christmas to us." You corrected, pressing another small kiss to his lips. "And I love you too."

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part four ~ it was them like that ~ 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

A/N: I rewrote this part twice wanting it to be perfect readable. I am grateful for every like/retweet: to quote our boy himself “I wish I could shake all your little hands.” Messages/asks are always highly appreciated. Strive to have a good quarantine, and take care of yourself!

Summary: Alex goes to find Sammy at his apartment and is met with an odd reception from Y/N.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Minor (Non-Graphic) Injury.

Word Count: 2.6k

Alex woke to the feeling of incessant buzzing in his hand. It was not a bright morning. With a groan, he opened his eyes – feeling the crust in the corners of them – and looked to his phone in his right hand. It buzzed with silenced notifications, and the screen lit up with banners and alerts. He tried to fight through his exhaustion. There was an odd taste in his mouth; he swirled his tongue around, attempting to produce saliva to little avail.

Propping himself on his elbows, he pulled his phone to his chest and read the lock screen. Nothing it said made sense. When he activated the touch ID, his phone opened to instagram and the last thing he watched before passing out (in his street clothes on top of his bedding). He had been watching an instagram story he was tagged in – even worse – it was George's instagram story.

To his horror, George had posted a solid three minutes of him dancing. Despite the overall low quality of the videos and darkness of the club, it was clear that it was indeed Alex who was throwing his limbs and jumping around erratically.  

George had also managed, even in his inebriated state, to post the worst of the videos on twitter. And his followers were going mad. Three hundred retweets, five hundred comments, and at least a thousand laughing-crying emojis in all. 

Alex groaned and tossed his phone to the end of the bed.

Getting up was a slow process. He had to stop to ground himself every few steps. While grasping a weak hand on his side table, he picked a pair of black joggers off the floor and replaced his white jeans with them. He moved steadily, grazing his fingertips along the wall as he went to his cupboard, and ripped a shirt from its hanger in an almost aggressive manner. He changed into it.

Eventually, he made it to his bathroom. After splashing water on his face and sticking his head under the faucet for a good minute, slurping the water like he would if he were drinking from a garden hose, he felt better. Alex tossed his hair around with his hand, pulling it forward and down, smoothing the cowlicks. Its slight greasiness was not too noticeable. He huffed, gathered his essentials (wallet, keys, phone) from his desk/bed, and left.

"You up already?" George called from where he sat on the sofa eating cereal. "It's before noon."

"Shut up. I saw your instagram story." Alex stood in the kitchen with a blank gaze debating whether to eat then or later. "You made me look like a complete bellend; I don't appreciate it."

"You wanted to dance! Who am I to deny the imallexx stans their behind-the-scenes exclusive?"

Rolling his eyes, Alex left the kitchen. At the front door, he slipped on the most available shoes there: which happened to be George's crocs (he swears he bought as a laugh but wore all the time).

"I'm going to go pick-up Sammy.” 

George snorted and said, "You mean pick-up off the floor, probably."

"Just be ready to film when we get back."

Standing out in the hall, breathing in the fixed smell of wet dog in the carpet, Alex thanked himself for being young enough to be able to near blackout and be just a touch ill in the morning.

It was not a full two minutes between Alex leaving George and him stepping out of the lift onto the floor above. Coming up on Sammy and Y/N's apartment, there was a fleeting regret that he wished he had thought in his morning haze to brush his teeth before showing up unannounced. But it was too late as his hand was raised and rapping on their door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Alex watched the door handle jump as it was twisted and pulled on the tiniest amount possible. Just enough for the latch bolt to disengage and reengage so that it rested – holding the door open – against the doorframe. There was no proper greeting. He felt like an intruder having to push on the almost closed door and let himself into the apartment: though invited not necessarily welcome.

Inside it was bright with all available light fixtures on including a scattering of floor and table lamps. There was the sound of a running shower.

To his left was Y/N ducked into her refrigerator. She pushed things around on the top shelf before landing her hand on a carton of eggs. Taking them out, she sat them on the counter next to a mixing bowl. She turned her back to Alex but not before flashing him a tense near straight-line smile.

"Hi." Y/N counted out three eggs from the carton. "Sam's in the shower."

Alex grabbed a bar seat. He rested slouched against the backrest but kept his shoulders square and arms open. Hair fell from his fringe, and he jerked his head out of instinct, flipping the hair out of his face. A bit bedraggled. The chain still around his neck from his night-out. Lithe arms stuck out from armholes three times their size as he drowned in the large yellow crewneck.

It was the same yellow as the one Y/N complimented him on earlier. Not that he recognized it when he was throwing on clothes. Not that he would admit he recognized it.

Y/N cracked three eggs into the mixing bowl with one hand and tossed the shells into the kitchen bin. She stood, her feet set like an arrow, with her toes touching. Next to the mixing bowl was a waffle iron with a red light on top and a baking mix box. She held it up; her mouth moved as she read off the ingredients on the recipe on the back of the box to herself.

Alex forced a light chuckle. "I'm surprised he's up. He was out of it when we dropped him off."

"You all were," mumbled Y/N into her collar. She placed the box down and stirred the contents of the mixing bowl with a fork and a quick hand. Her head was down focused on what she was doing; a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"You got me there." Alex shifted in his seat, scooching up so he might rest his forearms on the counter. He proceeded to crack his knuckles to occupy his nervous hands. "How is Sammy?"

"Fine."

"He's helping me film a video." Like a smiling dog promised and expecting a treat, Alex straightened up in his seat. He searched Y/N's side profile for a read on her but came up blank.

"Hmm," hummed Y/N letting up on her battering of the waffle batter.

It was evident in how his spine slumped and how he returned to resting on his arms that it was not the reaction Alex expected. The reaction he hoped for was a reaction at all but no such luck.

"I guess he would have told you. I'm a youtuber." Alex added in a stronger voice (as if her not hearing him was the issue), "So is George."

"Uh-huh." Polite in tone but nonetheless dismissive.

"I was hoping you'd text me, then I'd have your number as well."

Y/N gave no response. Her eyes were clouded and distant. Leaving the batter to sit, she crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer of miscellaneous utensils. While she searched for what she wanted, the fingers of her non-dominate hand drummed a rhythm against her hip.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Alex.

"What?"

"Was it last night? Did I do something to offend you? I was trashed." He spoke plain, hiding the hint of hurt in his voice. His open palm-up hands moved in a series of give and take type gestures.

His bit of babbling grabbed Y/N's full attention. She pulled her focus up, from her search in the utensil drawer to Alex's face. Her hesitant gaze stopped at his mouth and nose before going further up.

Their eyes met. Alex felt a surge of warmth rushing upon him: a warmth he could lie in forever. Die in. So even his bones might one afternoon be exposed to it. It was clear at that moment (as if it was not before) that being around Y/N was not something Alex knew how to handle or react to.

There was an undeniable switch in her gaze – a moment of real recognition – and if eyes could talk, hers would have sighed and happily said, oh, it's you.

Alex reiterated, "I promise I don't remember a thing."

"Sorry, Al." (a pause like she did intend the nickname but then thought it inappropriate) "Sorry, Alex. It's not you. I just have a lot I'm thinking about."

"You don’t have to apologize; I was just a little worried is all." He relaxed, dropping his hands, letting them fall to his lap.

"You're sweet. Thank you." Her hand settled in the utensil drawer; she pulled out an ice cream scoop and held it at an odd angle. Fiddling with the lever as if checking it worked. It did. Y/N turned her back to him once more to place the ice cream scoop on the counter with the mixing bowl. She picked out the fork from the bowl and continued stirring the batter.

Sore from slouching and general aching muscles, Alex stood from the bar seat and stretched.

"You make a lot of breakfast foods, huh?" he asked as he stood with solid feet and twisted at the middle as far to his left as he could; he twisted to the other side as his spine screamed at him. "Is that your favourite then?"

"Why? Got something against breakfast?"

"I like buttered toast as much as the next—" Alex was distracted mid-thought when he lifted his foot and put it down again to the sound of a quiet crunch. Light speckles of paint dotted the floor, and when he lifted his foot, under it was a small chip of plasterboard.

"Toast, you said? How extravagant!"

A framed picture was stuck on the wall nearest Alex: one he did not recognize as being there before, but half the apartment was not yet unpacked when he last was there. How bad could you screw up your wall hanging something? He pulled on a bottom corner of the frame and peered behind it.

It was a fine hanging job. There was just a fist-sized hole in the plasterboard wall. And the framed picture was covering it.

Y/N glanced over to him. "That's nothing – just a little accident from last night. Could thank George for that if you like."

"George did that?"  He exclaimed, reeling as if he were about to faint. Alex made a fist and compared it to the hole. George and him about matched in height – matched hand sizes. While the hole in the plasterboard could eat Alex's hand.

Y/N's face dropped as she rushed to correct herself, "No! Not at all."

"You scared me," the words rode out on his bated breath. He put the framed picture back in place, moving to retake the bar seat.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." Y/N gave a shallow shake of the head.

"What did happen?"

"Oh," she sounded exhausted, "Sam got angry because George was teasing him about something."

"What was it about?"

"I couldn't understand it. None of you lot were making sense," she said unconvincingly

"Come on, Red."

And there at his words or in reaction to the strange atmosphere Y/N rolled her left shoulder back and, when it returned to its natural resting position, she twitched. Her head turned forty-five degrees to the left, and her chin lifted so that her cheek was parallel to the ground for about half a second until her muscles relaxed, and she stood regular. Y/N spoke soft, "I don't know."

"Well, Sammy must have said something. Or George."

"Stop." Y/N spoke clear and stern, throwing her voice despite not facing him. "You were all giggling like idiots and piss drunk. Ok? It was bound to happen."

Atop the waffle iron, the red light switched to green. Y/N tilted the mixing bowl toward herself and grabbed the ice cream scoop. She stirred it around the bowl. Her elbow lifted from her side in the motion. It was shaking. She was shaking. Trembling – even if just a small amount.

"Ok," Alex said without thinking. 

The ice cream scoop gathered the golden batter. It would have looked delicious if his stomach was not so knotted.

Lifting the waffle iron lid, Y/N poured the batter in a circle from the outside-in, when the lid dropped, snapping shut on two of her fingers. "Ow! Shit."

She raced to the sink: turning it on to its coldest setting: she kept her hurt hand at a distance. Her free hand grasped her inner elbow supporting the extended arm. As the water bathed her burnt fingers, Y/N stood bent over with her head tucked under her arms and muttered a string of curses.

"Fuck. Are you alright?" Alex rushed around the counter. "Did you break them?"

"N-no. No." She was stuttering through distressed gasps.

"Red, it's not great." Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and another over her free hand on her arm. He felt her continuing to struggle for breath and start a self-soothing type rocking on her feet – not about to give in to the panic. "It’s not great, but you got to calm down. Follow me."

He pulled his lips in and inhaled a slow breath as if through a straw, exhaling it just the same. It took ten seconds of him doing the exercise on his own before Y/N began to follow. And it was them like that. And it was nice – given the circumstances.

Both their shirts were damp from the splashback of the running sink.

Half a minute passed. Y/N had not gained her complete composure, but her breathing evened out, and her muscles relaxed enough that Alex had to reposition himself to support her as she leaned into him slightly.

"Thank you." It was audible though her chin was still tucked to her chest.

"It's alright...I can't cook either."

She laughed a short laugh. "You were lying earlier?"

"I know, pretty believable."

Sammy walked in from the master bedroom: shirtless with his wet hair dripping water onto the floor: and his eyebrows knit together in immediate confusion and concern. Set in action, he rushed over to the kitchen and pulled Alex off Y/N (sending him stumbling over himself to regain balance). At Y/N's side, he turned off the sink and took hold of her hands, avoiding the burned fingers.

"Red. What did you do?" he asked.

"It's alright," she assured, and it was, as most minor burns are after a few seconds under cold water.

Alex was frozen in place – watching them – reconciling his protective instincts with his disorientation. And despite where his eyes landed in physical space, he was far off in another place in his mind.

Staring at him with a skewed frown, Sammy asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm– I was going to pick you up to film."

"Right." He straightened Y/N and himself up to be standing. "I'll be up in a bit."

It took a moment for the command from Alex's brain (move) to reach his legs. In that time, he stole a glance at Y/N whose face canvased a flustered blush. She smiled. A metaphorical dart whizzed around his head, striking a metaphorical bullseye, and producing a singular thought.™

He wished he could go back to about twenty-three lines ago. To when she was leaning on him.

Alex smiled a reassuring smile in return and shuffled out of the apartment. Two steps from the closed door, he heard Sammy say to Y/N in a hushed voice, "I’m here for you, Red, but you should have known better."

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #464

Top Ten Feelgood Moments in Movies

Serendipity’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I’ve been planning to make this week about feelgood films since, oooh, late November maybe. I mean, we’ve had enough misery since 2016 to last us an entire Middle-Earth Extended Edition boxset. We need our Pelennor Fields moments wherever we can get them, and Joe Biden being sworn in as President is a good a moment as any right now. So anyway, that was the plan, and then along comes good old Empire magazine with a month dedicated to top cinema moments. They’re not all feelgood, to be fair – there’s the chestburster scene from Alien for a kick-off – but it’s one of those instances of curious synchronicity. What I’m saying is, I didn’t rip them off, okay? This was percolating since the Tangerine Nightmare lost Georgia.

Anyway: feelgood.

This was surprisingly hard, because the moments that I cherish aren’t always feelgood. Even in Lord of the Rings, even in the Pelennor Fields, the whole Ride of the Rohirrim stuff is laced with tragedy. The best bits of those films – “Fly, you fools!”, “For Frodo,” “I can’t carry it but I can carry you,” “Go away and don’t come back” – they’re all melancholy, aren’t they? It’s a saga about people being heroic under duress, and in those cases quite often people don’t make it back all in one piece. Think about Pixar, what are the great moments? “Thanks for the adventure, “So long partner,” “Take her to the moon for me” – they’re all about loss. Or rather, new joy from loss, hope from despair, that kind of thing. They’re terrific, they always make me cry, but they’re not exactly feelgood if you know what I mean.

So here we are. Moments of utter joy, that’s what I’m after. Heart soaring, tears pouring, euphoric moments of extreme happiness. I’ve tried for the most part to avoid joyous moments of excess: there’s one explosion and one bit where a dude gets stabbed in the face, but for the most part I’ve eschewed “feelgood violence” for want of a better word. These are scenes that are supposed to make you smile.

And y’know what? We could all do with smiling more in this day and age.

Good luck, Joe and Kamala. Do a good job. Take us to the moon.

(P.S. spoiler alert for, well, pretty much every film in the list)

“Happy birthday, Aunt Lucy.” (Paddington 2, 2017): after ninety minutes of watching Paddington bring out the best in everybody just by existing, we all feel he deserves a happy ending. And everyone pulls together and gets it for him. Everyone he’s helped, everyone whose life he touched, they’re all there, leading Paddington – and us – to the door. As an adult, you know what’s coming; kids are less sure. But it’s a joyous moment of nothing but true happiness. Two CGI characters hug with such sincerity you can feel the warmth from the screen, and then comes those last words – quiet, whispered, almost thrown away. It’s perfect.

“When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989): romcom endings are very hard. You’ve navigated a couple’s relationship, generally speaking you’ve split them up in act three, and now they need to get back together in a big, extravagant way, that undoes the plot machinations that separated them. No one does it as well as Harry here, delivering a soliloquy on what it means to be in love, loving a person’s quirks and foibles and how they occupy your mind, ending with that superb line. Sally says it best: when he says stuff like that, he makes it impossible for us to hate him.

“On your left.” (Avengers: Endgame, 2019): Captain America stands alone, battered and beaten, his unbreakable shield broken. The vast armies of Thanos stand before him. He faces certain death, and the probable destruction of everything. He grits his teeth, tightens his shield straps, and then… Sam Wilson’s voice, delivering a line from several films ago, a moment of levity and shared continuity. His friends arrive, slowly at first; Black Panther, the Guardians, Spider-Man. Legions from across the cosmos. “Is that everyone?” asks Doctor Strange. “You wanted more?!” replies Wong. And then giant Ant-Man bursts through a building, with Hulk and co. An army of good from across the galaxy to face the forces of evil. Cap calls forth Mjolnir (and that moment was so nearly my choice), and then… “Avengers… assemble.”

“That’ll do, pig.” (Babe, 1995): Babe is one of those films that’s mostly joy: feelgood throughout, really, despite moments of drama or sadness. But after some nail-biting scenes as Farmer Hoggett and his piggy bud do their sheepdog act, we have a moment of angsty silence before the crowd goes ballistic, cheers everywhere, women crying, top marks. And then very softly, oh-so-tenderly, Hoggett’s great catchphrase. It’ll do. It’ll always do.

“Indiana… let it go.” (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, 1989): a film built on witty repartee and full-throated spectacle, Crusade lingers in the memory due to the subtle character work between father and son. They mend their fractured relationship over the course of the movie, but it’s really symbolised when Henry saves “Junior” at the expense of rescuing the Grail, calling Indiana by his chosen name for the first time in the film. It’s a great character beat, and is followed shortly afterwards by the protagonists literally riding off into the sunset.

“I am no man!” (The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003): as I alluded to above, the Rings trilogy is full of incredible moments of awe, pathos, tragic heroism, and bittersweet joy. But arguably the biggest cheer is reserved for when Eowyn of Rohan dispatches the Witch-King of Angmar courtesy of a Shakespearean loophole in his whole “no man can kill me!” schtick. Coming between the awe-inspiring Ride of the Rohirrim and the death of Theoden, it’s a terrific punch of joy and satisfaction.

“E.T. phone HOOOOOME!” (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): E.T. is another of those films full of joy, but it’s also tinged with sadness. Melancholia bleeds into the film like sunlight through Elliot’s blinds. E.T. himself spends half the film getting sicker and sicker, until he appears to die, all pale and cold-looking. But then! The flower comes back to life! His heart glows bright red, visible through his weird hyperbaric chamber/coffin thing! Elliot flings back the lid, and E.T. barks his catchphrase euphorically. God, it’s great.

“Andy Dufresne, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.” (The Shawshank Redemption, 1994): it’s a bit of a grim watch, Shawshank; this isn’t a Paddington-style joy-fest. Andy is wrongfully impression and then spends twenty years being brow-beaten and abused before making his escape. But what an escape; not just the audacity of it – not just the fact he gets out at all – but how he ingeniously tunnels his way out over the decades, steals the warden’s ill-gotten money, exposes the scandal at the prison, and – as Red says – crawls through a sewer. It’s a beautifully put-together scene, everyone getting their just desserts and deserved rewards, and is capped off shortly after when Red himself is released and gets to retire alongside his friend.

“You’re all clear, kid, now let’s blow this thing and go home!” (Star Wars, 1977): I almost had the mothership explosion from Independence Day on this list, because I remember how much that impacted me as a teenager; seeing the baddie aliens get theirs was just great. But really it’s a replication of this, the grandaddy of all “beating the bad guys” big bangs. Luke, whiney teenager from nowhere, ends up flying an X-Wing against the evil oppressive Empire’s mighty Death Star. When all hope seems lost, Han Solo returns, proving his heroism, knocking Darth Vader for six and leaving our hero free and clear to use the Force, Luke. Cue phenomenal fireball. Joy!

“I’m singin’ in the rain…” (Singin’ in the Rain, 1952): musicals are joyous, aren’t they? A proper old-fashioned feelgood sing-song can be transcendent. “Singin’ in the Rain” – as in, the song/dance number – is about a bloke so bloody happy that he doesn’t care if he gets wet. It’s a euphoric statement of intent, a declaration of both love and supreme serenity in and of itself. And as a piece of cinema, it’s all that and more; an escalating dance routine, as the music soars and the camera lifts up, and we take in the splendour of this one bloke kicking in puddles. It’s daft, it’s funny, and it’s just, well, feelgood.

[captainhotch]

Cat and Mouse

Request; “We’re just friends” + “Stop lying to yourself” from this prompt list

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

A/N; Send in some requests! Especially interested in Marvel requests rn but Stranger Things and Riverdale are always welcomed.

masterlist

You and Wanda Maximoff were more then just friends. As much as she liked to write off what you two had as a tight-knit friendship, it was so much more than that. The stolen glances and delicate touches make that much true.

Yet the woman continued to dismiss the suspicious looks from her friend, Natasha Romanoff, or the quirked brows from the rest of your team at your shared interactions.

It stung a little, you would admit. That the woman would just not accept your collosal crush on her- or the fact that you two acted far from friends. If anything she was leading you on. Why she didn’t just read your mind and find out for herself, you had no clue. You weren’t exactly bold enough to go right out with your feelings anyways.

You hummed to yourself as you looked in the mirror, gently coating your lashes with your favorite black mascara. Tony was having (yet another) extravagant party, and you were being forced to come. Something about it being good press to have all of the Avengers there. That and he was tired of you being a social hermit.

You finished your look off with a coat of ruby red liquid lipstick, smirking at your reflection. You looked great, you must admit. Your winged liner was sharp as hell and your highlight could be seen from twenty feet away. Self-confidence was not something you were lacking.

You went to your bed and grabbed your black dress that you had layed out a few hours before. It was simple and flowy (your favorite), with two high slits for each leg and a low neckline. It was the perfect amount of skin for the event in your opinion. You would surely catch the eyes of many- hopefully Wanda would be one of them.

You paired the dress with some nude pumps and a black clutch for your phone and gun. Avengers parties always seemed to have unexpected surprises. The last thing you needed was another Ultron situation.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time before turning off your light and closing your door. Natasha was standing outside, tapping her foor on the floor impatiently.

“Finally, what the hell took you so long?” She questioned, linking her arm through your own. She wore an emerald green dress that perfectly complimented her red hair.

“Looking this good isn’t easy.” You grinned, shooting the taller woman a wink.

You and Natasha were basically best friends. Being amongst the few women in the tower, you learned how to survive together.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes with a smirk, “don’t act like i’m unaware of who you’re trying to impress.”

You scoffed in fake disbelief. “I’m not trying to ‘impress’ anyone.” You replied with air quotes. “Catch her attention, maybe. But not impress.”

“Well if that doesn’t work you could always try to make her jealous. Dance with someone else or something. With you in that dress it won’t be difficult at all.” Natasha shrugged.

You hummed in agreement, stepping into the elevator as is dinged. You grinned at Sam and Steve who stood in the elevator, dressed to the nines in suits and bowties.

“Well don’t you two look spiffy.” You whistled, winking at the men.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, gorgeous,” Sam whistled, Steve nodding in agreement. He was still blushing from your earlier comment.

You laughed at the men, linking your arms with theirs. Having two handsome men on your arms would for sure turn some heads.

When the four of you walked in, all eyes were on you (as to be expected). Tony raised his whiskey glass in the air in greeting, shouting to get your attention.

You all began walking towards him.

“Well don’t you two look lovely.” He grinned, kissing your cheek and sending a wink towards Nat.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” She replied, rolling her eyes. “Anyone else want to come with?”

Sam and Steve followed behind her, leaving you with Tony.

“It looks great,” you grinned, looking around the room.

It really did look amazing. The purple and blue lighting around the perimeter of the roof top lounge resulted in an ambiance that couldn’t be described in words. The chatter of the crowd and the shared laughter made for a great mood. It wasn’t even too crowded like many of Tony’s parties were. You could easily walk around without feeling suffocated.

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking a sip of his whisky, “I’m surprised you came.”

You rolled your eyes, “I try to keep my promises. As much as I didn’t want to.”

“I appreciate you, kid,” He laughed, pulling you into a side hug. “but you should be thanking me. Wanda hasn’t taken her eyes off of you since you walked in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed, scanning the room slowly in hopes of finding the witch.

You saw her sitting on the couch beside Clint, and sure enough she was looking at you, not bothering to look away when your eyes met hers. You raised an eyebrow before looking away, ignoring the spike in your pulse. Damn her and her beautiful everything, you thought to yourself.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you sighed, walking away from Tony. You sat in the bar stool next to Sam and lowered your head, running your hands through your hair.

You looked up when a shot class of tequila was placed in front of you. “Thanks, Nat.” You sighed.

“Anything for my favorite superhero,” she smirked, holding up a shot glass of her own before downing it along with you.

You hissed as it burned your throat, closing your eyes tightly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, turning his body to face you.

For as long as Sam had been friends with Steve, the pair of you had been friends too- instantly hitting it off. His sarcastic humor and always happy attitude meahed perfectly with you own- you were pretty sure Steve hated your friendship as he was almost always the target of your pranks and teasing.

“Nothing,” you sighed, looking back at Wanda whose attention had turned to a leggy brunette who was sitting a little close for comfort, “nothing at all.”

“Bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, get up. We’re gonna dance and you’re going to forget all about your lady problems for one night.” He grinned, pulling you off of your stool and onto the dance floor.

You spent the next twenty or so minutes dancing with same, the songs switching between up beats ones to more slow and sensual ones. In both cases you were enjoying yourself immensely. 

Wanda, on the other hand, could not keep the glare off of her face. She had been watching Sam’s hands on your waist and yours around his neck for as long as they hand been there and it was making her sick to her stomach.

Clint couldn’t help but to laugh at the girl. In his mind she was an idiot. It was obvious that you and Wanda were interested in each other, he didn’t understand why Wanda refused to accept it. 

Wanda’s last straw was Sam turning you around so that your back was against his chest, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you closer towards him- and your enjoyment in his actions. She couldn’t just sit there and watch the two of you like that.

In her mind, removing you from the situation was just being a good friend. So she stood up and put down her wine glass, marching in your direction.

You weren’t even paying attention when the girl reached you, your eyes shooting open at a tight hand clamping down on your wrist. It couldn’t have been Sam, as both of his were situated comfortably on your hips.

“What the hell, Wanda?” You questioned as she ripped you out of Sam’s arms and pulled you off into a different direction. “Where are we going?”

She didn’t answer, still pulling you harshly away from Sam and the dance floor. The two of you stopped when you reached the edge of the roof away from most of the crowd- aside from a few stragglers. 

“You can’t just pull me away whenever you want to, Wanda. You’re not my girlfriend.” You rolled your eyes, ripping your arm from the woman’s grip.

You were irritated already with her, and the alcohol in your system did nothing to help that at all. 

“What are you talking about.” She asked you, her voice filled with exhaustion. 

“I was dancing with Sam, we were having fun.” You hissed, glaring at her.

Wanda rolled her eyes, “I was being a good friend. I don’t want you to make a decision that you’ll regret later on.” She insisted, though you didn’t believe her one bit. She was oh-so-obviously jealous.

“Bullshit, Wanda. Stop lying to yourself with all of this ‘We’re just friends’ crap. Tell me how you really feel,” You replied, your voice softening towards the end, “please.”

Wanda sighed, turning her attention from you to the New York skyline. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I was just doing what any friend would do - I didn’t want you to make a drunken mistake that you’ll regret later.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “The only mistake I’ve made tonight is thinking that you’d actually be honest with me for once. You’re not my girlfriend, Wanda, my decisions are none of your damn business.”

You rolled your eyes when she said nothing, nodding your head in confirmation. Nothing that you could say or do would make her change her mind. Whether she liked you or not, it was obvious that she had no intentions in doing anything about it- other than insult you, maybe.

You turned around and being walking away, back in the direction of Steve, Sam, and the bar.

“Y/N, wait,” Wanda called out, trying to gain your attention.

You paused for a moment, looking down towards the ground before continuing off in the other direction.

You didn’t want to play cat and mouse anymore.

[kathleen-kitty-blog]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Summary: When Sam is ordered off a case due to a stomach bug, she finds herself alone for Christmas. But just as she’s starting to sympathize with Scrooge, a certain someone comes home to brighten up things.

Author’s notes: Just a little fluff for the Christmas holiday! Hopes ya enjoy ;D       (I’m planning on continuing Showing The Change very soon. This is just a little something different ‘cause it’s Christmas!)

Christmas Eve. What an exciting and thrilling night that is. Children scurrying around in the anticipation of Santa’s arrival, parents wrapping up some last minute gifts, and everyone’s moods suddenly getting just a little bit brighter. It’s a time to be with one’s family. A time to sit back and lounge by a crackling fire. A time when… everything is close to being absolutely perfect.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go.

On this particular Christmas Eve, Samantha Massey could argue against that. This year was different from most Christmases she’d experienced. It was supposed to be her very first Christmas with her new husband, but no. Life had other plans. Things just had to go to heck and steal her detective off into a very dangerous, very secretive case.

Honestly, Sam couldn’t complain. She’d been through her fair share of years when she herself had been busy at work as December rolled around. But things always managed to work out somehow. That’s one of the ways Christmas was so special.

But not this year. This year, everything was wrong. She wasn’t in Texas; she was in Los Angeles. She wasn’t with her family; she was alone in a dimly lit house. She wasn’t feeling the joy of Christmas; she was feeling the burn of a sneeze as her hands grasped for more tissues. Screw allergies.

So this Christmas Eve, Sam decided, was going to suck. And because it was going to suck, she privileged herself every right to be a Scrooge and not talk to anyone. She even turned down Ryan Summer’s invitation to his fancy Christmas party. In Sam’s mind it was the movie star’s sad attempt to make sure she wasn’t completely alone for the holidays. After all, she was a newly married woman. A woman whose husband wasn’t even around for their very first December 25th together!

As she stifled another sneeze, Sam clutched the warm blanket closer to her knees. It was at this moment when she realized how much of a a blessing sweatpants were.

“Achoo!”

‘Ugh,’ she thought bitterly. ‘I get over a stomach bug only to drown in a cold.’

To distract her mind from her pounding headache, Sam fumbled around for the remote control to the tv in their living room. She quickly found it sitting next to her and turned on the screen. It seemed like every channel was playing either Elf or White Christmas. She settled on White Christmas and snuggled herself into the blanket wrapped around her body.

One of those random chills made her shiver as she watched an extravagant dance number take place on the tv. She tried not to think of the times when she’d sit down and watch this movie on repeat with her siblings. It only made her wish she was in Odessa with them instead of here, in California, wondering if her husband was even still alive.

The case Dave had been sucked into was far from easy or safe. She didn’t know too much about it, but she did know that it involved him having to constantly watch his back. In fact, he hadn’t even been in contact with her for at least a week. It was these types of situations that Dave was good at but Sam hated. She would much rather have a full on shootout than blend in with the crowds and use stealthy maneuvers to get information. But, at least it was Dave who’d stayed healthy enough to take charge of this case. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, he was much more equipped for these delicate types of things.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dying to be with him.

Ding dong!

Whipping around, Sam stared at the door of their small house. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Who would be stopping by this late at night?

Some of Dave’s warning words echoed deafeningly in her mind. ‘I’m gonna have to disappear for a few days. Don’t be too quick to trust people while I’m gone. If they find me it won’t take them too long to find you. So watch your back.’

Feeling her heart speed in anxiously, the Deputy Marshal instinctively grabbed the pistol sitting across from her and stood up. She flipped off the tv, threw down the fuzzy blanket, and began to take slow steps towards the door. Green eyes narrowed defensively, Sam positioned herself on the far corner of the locked door.

She held the pistol close to her chest and hovered her hand over the doorknob. After sucking in a breath to steady her nerves, she unlocked the door and flung it open aggressively. Her hands shot forward to point the gun at the figure in the doorway, a strong look on her face. But that’s when her eyes widened.

“Easy Marshal,” said the smooth, sultry voice of Dave Reyes as he pushed the pistol away from his face. “I’m not here to kill anyone.”

“Dear God,” Sam mumbled in shock as she pulled the gun back and yanked her husband inside. She slammed the door behind him. “When did you- how did you- mm!”

Her voice was cut off as Dave suddenly leaned forward and smashed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. He eventually pulled back with a warm smile on his face. “Oh, I needed that.” He leaned forward again for another round only to have Sam push him back.

His fiery partner fixed a cold glare on him. “You can’t just show up out of nowhere and kiss me like you haven’t been gone for a week!”

Dave tilted his head as he studied her expression. “I told you I’d be undercover. Things were too risky for me to call you or come home.”

Sam held her angry glare as she tossed her pistol aside and crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t know where you were! You disappeared off face of the freakin’ planet. I was stuck here, alone, wondering if you were even still alive. You could’ve at least tried to contact me!”

“It wasn’t safe,” Dave protested, tilting his head as he studied her frustrated expression. “I had to wait until things were in the clear before I could come home. But hey, at least I made it in time for Christmas.” He smiled, hoping she would join him.

But, to his disappointment, she didn’t. She only sniffed and brushed her hair back. “Yeah. It’s about damn time too. A-Achoo!” She exclaimed as she sneezed on him.

Dave flinched, a slightly disgusted look on his face. But then he sighed with a small laugh. “You look like a mess, Massey.”

She fixed a glare on him. “Reyes. You ain’t helping my self esteem here.”

He smirked as he walked deeper into their house and into the living room. His gaze landed on the discarded fuzzy blanket and box of tissues on the couch. His eyes softened a little sadly. “… I guess it was pretty bad that I missed most of our first Christmas together, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed gruffly as she came up behind him, her arms still crossed. “I spent the past few days receiving photos from my family back in Texas and ignoring invitations to Christmas parties.”

“Why exactly?” Dave asked curiously.

She gestured to herself. “Have you seen me? I’m either sneezing every ten minutes or coughing up a lung.”

Her husband looked her over briefly before his eyes lit up with an idea. He smiled and quickly picked up Sam by her waist, easily plopping her down on the couch.

“Reyes, what?” She questioned as he wrapped the blanket around her and left the tissue box on the coffee table.

“Shh,” he gold her, placing a finger to her lips. “Don’t question. Just enjoy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That was suspiciously vague.”

“What did I just say?” He asked as he turned a corner and went into the kitchen.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Right. No talking.”

About ten minutes of listening to Dave fumble around in the kitchen went on before the smell of chocolate began to reach Sam’s nose. Soon, her husband returned into the living room with two mugs in hand.

He was smiling proudly as he handed her a warm mug of hot chocolate. “Madam,” he said sweetly, green eyes sparkling.

Sam took the drink in surprise. She took a long, much needed sip before breaking into a smirk. “Are these baby marshmallows I see floating around?”

Dave grinned triumphantly. “They are indeed. Very manly of me, I know.”

She stifled another roll of her eyes and instead watched as Dave turned on the tv and flipped to a Christmas music station. The detective whipped around to face Sam again. “Okay, you wait here while I get changed into something less battle-worn.”

It was then that Sam noticed how bedraggled Dave actually looked. His normally clean and crisp suit was torn and stained. Apparently he’d had worse of a day than she’d assumed. But before she could call him on it, he disappeared down the hall and into their bedroom.

While he was gone, Sam quickly jumped to her feet and darted over to the Christmas tree sitting against the wall. She snatched up a present marked ‘To: Dave.’ Hurrying, she dived back to the couch and pretended like she’d never gotten up.

It didn’t take too much longer for Dave to return in some much more comfortable attire. He wore a pair of black sweatpants paired with a maroon sweater.

“You look nice,” Sam commented as he headed for the couch.

Dave chuckled, crawling over the armrest and scooting himself next to Sam. He saddled up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I thought I might as well rock the ugly Christmas sweater look since it’s just the two of us.” His eyes spotted the present tucked under her arm. “What’s that?”

“Hm? Oh, that?” She smoothly pulled it out and handed it over. “Merry Christmas, partner.”

Dave took the nicely wrapped gift in his hands. “Sam, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, none of that now. Just open your damn present.”

He mumbled a quick “yes ma’am” before hurrying to unfold the paper. The gold and red covering was soon ripped off to reveal the cover of a decorative photo album. Dave held it out and traced his hands along the golden edges. He smiled when he saw a picture of he and Sam on their wedding day. Quickly, he began to flip through the pages to see more and more of the photos they’d taken on that special day. His smile grew and grew. “Massey…”

She leaned forward anxiously, almost nervously. “Do you like it?”

“Seriously?” Dave asked as he turned to face her with a smile. “I love it.” He planted a kiss to her lips. “And I love you. Thank you for this. Now I can look back on that day whenever I want.”

Sam grinned triumphantly. “That was the idea. I’m glad you like it.”

As he stared into her attracting, emerald eyes, Dave suddenly remembered what he had shoved into his pocket. Snapping his head around, he pulled it out to make sure it was still there. “Well, while we’re exchanging presents, here’s yours.”

Sam blinked as she took the small box from his hands and looked it over. Her eyes glanced up at his with that familiar gleam in them before she ripped the paper away and chucked it at his face.

The detective dodged to the right and the wad of paper went flying to the floor. He sent a smug smirk in his wife’s direction.

Sam ignored him as she continued to unwrap her present. “Wipe that grin off your face.”

He didn’t wipe that grin off his face as he watched her pull out a small box.

“Oh…” Sam mumbled as she opened the box to see a shining silver chain with a beautiful red jewel to complete the necklace. “This looks so expensive…”

“It was,” Dave agreed with a small laugh. “But don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing this thing when we went to the mall a few weeks ago. Here, let me put it on you.” After moving the wedding album go the side, he gently pulled her blonde hair back and fastened the chain around her neck.

Sam touched the red scarlet jewel fondly. “I think this contrasts with the sweatpants.”

Dave shook his head in amusement. “Baby, you make this look good.” He sneakily kissed her neck. “And that necklace was made for you.”

The Deputy Marshal lifted her head so he could keep pressing soft kisses to her skin. “Mm… You’re gonna spoil me…” She pushed his head back so she could look into his deep eyes. “But Dave, I really do like it. It’s damn near perfect.”

He smiled. “You’re damn near perfect, Massey.”

She smirked. “Shut up and kiss me, Reyes.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded swiftly before leaning in to close the gap in between them. They kissed passionately and lovingly, barely stopping more than a second for air. Soon, Dave had scooted himself forward so he was holding himself above Sam, still kissing her fiercely but smoothly. He lowered himself closer to her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You might catch a cold from this,” she warned as she forced her body back into a sitting position.

“I’ll take my chances,” Dave replied, following her lead and sitting right next to her. He brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face as the music changed to a different song.

I’ll be home for Christmas You can plan on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents by the tree Christmas Eve will find me Where the lovelight gleams

“Hm,” Sam mused as she heard the words. “Fitting.”

I’ll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams

Dave turned to her with a playful gleam in his eye and promptly began to sing along to the lyrics. “I’ll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me.”

“Dear God,” Sam said with a small laugh as she watched the detective break into song.

Seeing her surprised but amused expression, Dave smiled and wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. “Please have snow. And mistletoe. And presents by the tree.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, don’t let me do this by myself. I know you know the words, Miss Marshal.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I was kinda enjoying hearing your charmingly sultry voice.”

“Christmas eve will find me,” he continued before looking at her expectantly.

With a roll of her eyes, she began to sing. “Where the lovelight gleams.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” they both sang together in semi perfect harmony. “If only in my dreams.”

Dave smiled at her in an almost proud way. “Well, look at that. She can sing.”

“Who said you could sing any better?” Sam challenged teasingly as she rested her head against his shoulder and let out a small sigh. “… I’m glad you’re home, Dave.”

“Me too, Massey,” he said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead and holding her close to his side. “Me too. Hey, let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?” He asked before grabbing the wedding album again and flipping to the first page. His eyes widened. “Okay, you’re not supposed to have those pictures. Which one of my best men betrayed me?”

“Both of ‘em,” Sam responded firmly, smirking and pointing to the selfies Ryan and Jamal secretly took while Dave adjusted his tux in the background.

The detective sighed. “Well, at least I have evidence now. I can hold this against them forever.”

They shared many more laughs and smiles as they continued to go through the entire album. There were pictures of everything that occurred that day. Cassandra sneakily making sure Sam and Dave never saw each other until the ceremony, the Three Stooges being put in charge of the reception, Sam walking down the isle, the long awaited kiss that sealed the deal, Dave asking Sam’s mother to dance, Jamal being the DJ, and so much more. Oh, but the best photo was definitely of the back of Dave’s cruiser which depicted a sign that read, ‘Just Finally Married’. To this day they wondered who planned and executed that.

As she leaned against her husband’s shoulder and watched him flip through each page, Sam found herself not being able to quite wipe the smile from her lips.

On this particular Christmas Eve, Samantha Massey thought she could argue with the stereotypical plans of the heartwarming night. But, even though this Christmas wasn’t going exactly how she imagined it, she couldn’t complain. Dave was home, they were back together, and that’s all that really mattered to her.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t suck just as badly as she had planned.

The End.